


Of Husbands and Wives

by girlcalledkill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Marauders' Era, Resolved Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Teenage Drama, Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wizarding Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:19:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlcalledkill/pseuds/girlcalledkill
Summary: Everyone has secrets... Except the Marauders, that is. Their policy of honesty has carried them through six years of friendship, though this year all of that might change.





	1. Chapter 1

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were in different places at different times on a particular Sunday in October, and maybe the issue at hand could have been avoided entirely had this not been the case.

Someone----

“Not naming any names, Wormtail,” Padfoot would later spit snidely across a table in the farthest corner of the library. 

\---- had been distracted by a girl, of all things, a girl, with chestnut hair who dared to flutter her eyelashes in his direction.

“Did she want something?” Padfoot would ask, and Moony would sigh and clap a hand to his forehead. “What the hell did she want with you?”

Because of this betrayal, this breach in security, this unforgivable action, the Marauders (so they called themselves and were thus called), found themselves in quite the predicament. Padfoot could assume no responsibility as he had been faithfully serving a detention scrubbing out cauldrons with not a lick of magic. He drummed his fingers, rubbed raw, on the table with his eyes fixed on Wormtail. The absolute traitor, how could he? 

Moony had been up in the common room, curled in an armchair recovering from a bout of sickness by the fire, simultaneously attempting to finish several scrolls of a Transfiguration assignment he had fallen behind on as a result of this. He had been excluded from the plan entirely because the Marauders had hearts, contrary to popular belief, and therefore he could not shoulder the blame this time around, which left Wormtail red handed: flirting with the Hufflepuff outside the Room of Requirement, with the candlestick. 

This led to the present.

Mainly, three out of four Marauders around a table with steam rising off the tops of their heads.

“But Prongs---”

“Prongs told you to keep watch.”

Padfoot was the least likely to have any of Wormtail’s bullshit, for lack of a better term.

Prongs, if he had been present as opposed to trapped in the Room of Requirement with Mrs. Norris prowling the hall contently, would have been patient and fair. But the proverbial ball did not rest in his democratic court, and The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had a tendency to be a bit….

“I told you to keep watch.”

…. Tyrannical.

Wormtail, flustered, resisted the urge to respectfully remind Padfoot how many times he had been distracted by the fairer sex and foiled their plans because of it. He decided that maybe this was not the time nor place, not now with the fury in his eyes and the malicious curl of his lip and Moony too weak to defend him.

“We’ve got Quidditch in an hour,” Padfoot hissed, slamming his hands on the table. Madam Pince, the librarian, looked over harshly and he sighed, running his hand through his hair. 

“How’re we going to get him out in time?”

Padfoot glared and opened his mouth to slice Wormtail from top to toe before Moony’s careful interruption.

“Arguing won’t help any.”

There was a steady silence Moony took as agreement, and so he proceeded.

“We distract the cat and get him out. Simple.”

“Distract the cat and she goes back to Filch and Prongs gets caught out of bounds again---”

“---it’s his own fault he was banned from the seventh floor---”

“---because of the last time we had to distract the cat!”

Moony groaned, chin resting in his elbow.

“Have you ever considered that maybe it was the way we distracted the cat and not the fact that we distracted her?”

Padfoot leaned back on the legs of his chair and fondly remembered blasting Mrs. Norris down the hall. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Oy!”

The fourth voice, joining them with a laugh, slid into the empty seat beside Padfoot and kicked a foot up. “What’re we talking about in such hushed tones?”

Wormtail, dumbstruck, took Prongs in with a dropped jaw. Moony snorted.

“You, you ass,” Padfoot seethed. “How’d you get out without getting caught?”

 

“Oh that’s neither here nor there,” Prongs grinned. “I got out unscathed, didn’t I?”

The boys mumbled in agreement.

“Without any help, right Wormtail?”

The boy in question stumbled over several nonsense words before being interrupted.

“Astonishing. I’ve still got it.”

“Very impressive,” Moony said dryly.

“A miraculous escape!” Prongs continued with a wave of his hand. Padfoot rolled his eyes. “Now you see him, now you don’t…”

“Are you planning on telling us what you’ve been up to yet?” 

The question came from Moony and brought a second hush to the table. Prongs adjusted his glasses carefully. It was true, this was one of several Sundays he had taken up residence on the seventh floor with the request of a guard. It was true he’d been caught frolicking out of bounds and had been banned from said seventh floor. It was also true that he had been hiding a simple truth under the guise of mischief and was not quite ready to reveal this, even to his closest friends.

“That’s…” Prongs began, and Padfoot slowly finished.

“....neither here nor there.”

And Prongs eyed his best friend carefully, noting the masked concern. “Cheers.”

………………..

 

As sixth years, the Brothers Marauders held a certain prowess over their fellow classmates. While not the top of the proverbial food chain, they came very close, and their reputations had a tendency to precede them. Therefore, it was common knowledge that Prongs (alias James Potter) had a habit of skulking around the seventh floor, though nobody was quite sure why. It was assumed that Padfoot (The Notorious Sirius Black) had a semblance of awareness that he must have shared with Moony (i.e. Remus Lupin), who may have told Wormtail (Peter Pettigrew, reluctantly) out of sympathy. But these presumptions were inaccurate, as even this storied friendship seemed to have bounds. 

When the Marauders took to the Great Hall for dinner that evening, it was with the arrogance they typically strode with, in height order, with a secret in their wake. James Potter held said secret, and it smelled like a love potion. Its potency seeped through his robes and strung Sirius Black along behind him with narrowed eyes and arms folded across his chest. They took their typical seats at the back of the Gryffindor table and tucked in, two out of four drenched with sweat from Quidditch practice, the other two watching tiredly as they discussed tactic and form. 

“When you swing your bat you have to turn your body---”

“Why don’t I just pirouette off the broom?” Sirius grumbled, reaching for the pumpkin juice that had just appeared on the table. The chatter around them escalated as students continued to pour in for their evening meal. “Would that satisfy you, Captain?”

James rolled his eyes. “Rather dramatic, don’t you think?”

Sirius Black, of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, gasped with a hand to his chest. “Moi?”

James opened his mouth to deliver a scathing reply but was momentarily distracted by a group of girls moving past them to the front of the table. At the head of the pack, a blonde and a redhead with linked arms. At the back, a flock of brunettes involved in what looked like an intense discussion of nothing in particular. The blonde glanced over at the Marauders, peering down her ski slope nose with a sneer. The redhead followed her stare with lesser intent; a simple grimace would suffice.

“Captain,” she greeted James in a rasp. 

“McKinnon,” he grinned back. Then he moved slightly to the side, as if to peer around McKinnon, to her redheaded counterpart. “Evans.”

And Evans said, with the semblance of a sigh, “Potter.”

“Carry on,” Sirius said with a wave of his hand. McKinnon scoffed.

“How _is_ your arm, Black?” she asked, raising a brow. “That was quite the swing, before.”

McKinnon and Black were a team of beaters whose sheer passive aggressivity powered them to victory, though they lacked the standard of communication held by most. They spoke predominantly in snide remarks, side swipes, and carefully crafted insults. 

“Just fine, thank you for your concern,” Black started as he rested his chin in his palm, bored. “And your face? Looking a little tight.”

“We’ve got to be going,” Evans said quickly, tugging on McKinnon’s arm as she moved to snarl. Black raised an eyebrow in amusement. Potter seemed to glance apologetically between his friends, though he couldn’t find much to say. And then there was a sound, a gratifying sound to some, which caused the lot of them to turn and stare in the direction of the Slytherin table on the opposite end of the Great Hall. The sound itself was loud enough to quiet the entirety of the hall, as all eyes seemed fixed on the display: in the aisle with their wands raised stood two Slytherins, facing each other with violent intensity. 

“Enough!” shouted Horace Slughorn, potions master and Head of Slytherin House as he rose from his position at the teacher’s table. “Dolohov! Knott!”

Knott moved her eyes in the direction of Slughorn’s voice without lowering her wand. 

“You first,” she said, cold. Dolohov sneered at her. Every student in the hall looked on eagerly. Slughorn stood and moved to the front of the teachers table where he was carefully watched by his peers, who seemed content leaving him to handle his house accordingly. 

“Knott,” he boomed. “Lower your wand.”

“Flipendo!” she cried, sending Dolohov crashing to the floor. The hall erupted into a flurry of sound, mingled shock, amusement and disarray. Slughorn flew down the aisle as the Slytherin table shot up in arms. Knott, smug, maintained her composure even as her head of house took her by the arm and yanked her away from the scene. As he pulled her to the corridor, steaming red and fuming, she shot a glance at a certain collective of Gryffindor boys. Some of them didn’t see it, so caught up in recounting the action. What a joy it was when their enemy house attacked themselves. But some of them did. 

James Potter pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Ainsley Knott smiled softly.

And Sirius Black, glancing between them, knew.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you're enjoying this so far, I'm having a really good time writing it. Feel free to leave some comments and stuff, let's be friends!

“May I have a word, Prongs?”

James Potter, sitting with his ankle crossed over his knee in the chair closest to the fire, glanced around the Gryffindor common room for an out. With Moony and Wormtail overly involved in a game of wizard’s chess and Marlene McKinnon pouring over a Transfiguration textbook, few options remained. He met Padfoot’s eyes with carefully constructed calm.

“I have a feeling you have several words, Padfoot.”

“Choice words. Several choice words.”

“And if I don’t want to hear them?” Potter asked with a sigh.

“When I mentioned the word choice, it didn’t pertain to you,” Black replied.

“Prat.”

“You love me.”

And this was true, so Potter stood and followed Black up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory where they could speak privately, that is until their absence was noted. They crossed the valley of scarlet and gold four poster beds to the window on the opposite side, the window with the ledge where they would sit and chain smoke and talk about life, liberty, and girls. They were firmly seated with cigarettes lit when Black first opened his mouth, only to be swiftly interrupted.

“Before you go asking questions---”

“My first question---”

“It’s not what you think---”

“It’s _exactly_ what I think---”

“And what exactly---”

“It’s a ploy,” Black proclaimed, waving his hands. “It’s a ploy to distract yourself from the Lovely Lily…”

Potter snorted. “Don’t you think that’s a little fifth year?”

“And Marlene McKinnon is a little fourth year but you still snogged her in your broomshed over the summer, don’t look at me like I don’t know.”

Prongs, jaw dropped, searched for some sort of explanation that would never come.

“Distractions,” Padfoot said simply, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Mere distractions.”

“First of all, it’s not… Knott…”

“Ah, yes _Knott_. Let’s talk about dear Ainsley.”

Sirius Black (of the Noble and Most Ancient… you know) may or may not have escorted Ainsley Knott down a grand staircase at a Pureblood cotillion at the request of his dear mother, who he loathed unabashedly. Little words were exchanged between Knott and Black, and even less eye contact as he took her hand and walked her down those gilded steps, but he would never forget the look on her face as he quite intentionally missed one and sent her stumbling to the floor.

“I’ve just been helping her with a few things. It’s not… _Involved_.”

“So you have nothing to do with her assaulting Dolohov during dinner? Which I enjoyed, don’t get me wrong…”

“I have no idea what that was about,” James Potter lied, straight to his best friend’s face. And Sirius Black acknowledged the lie. While it hurt him he knew better than to pry at this very moment; he would save the prying for a later date. “It’s not as complicated as you’d like it to be, mate.”

Complicated was a funny word to choose, Sirius thought. Yes, he was the Marauder most notorious for a flair for the dramatic and yes, he found himself to be rather complicated, but James? James was simple. He was easy and spirited and maybe a little arrogant, but complicated? Not James. Never James, until now. 

“I’m just… Worried about you,” Sirius confessed, and James raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, there’s plenty to worry about. Just not with me,” he grinned. He shoved Sirius’s shoulder playfully and they communally tossed their stubbed out cigarettes to the grounds below the window. 

“You want to join Moony and Wormtail? I think they’re starting to break a sweat.”

“I’m actually kind of tired, I think I’ll turn in early,” said James, stifling a yawn. “You go on, though.”

Sirius threw James a look as if to ask if he was sure, if maybe there was something else he’d like to discuss, maybe something complicated he wanted to bring to the table, but eventually shrugged and made his way back to the common room. James, alone, collapsed to his bed with his hands folded over his stomach. He removed his glasses and kicked off his shoes, then raked a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh.

Complicated.

It was all a bit complicated, wasn’t it? He thought of Lily Evans and her stockings and her white teeth tucked behind a tight lipped smile and he thought of something striking like butterflies and chocolate covered strawberries and fresh parchment, creamy like her legs beneath her skirt. Lily Evans had a laugh that rang out from under a politely cupped hand and he had been taken with her from the start, though she found him annoying and perhaps a bit brazen; he’d been quite cruel to a friend of hers in the past… But that ship had sailed, he thought. And his shore was less welcoming now. He thought of Marlene McKinnon, his childhood friend from the house over the hill. He thought of their parents huddled together in Quidditch stands; they’d always played for the same teams. Marlene McKinnon had dirt under her fingernails, calluses on her hands and a nasty mean streak that made her both fiercely competitive and uncomfortably attractive. But when she smiled it was like sunshine streaming through clouds and he admittedly loved to kiss her, though they would never be more than friends. Not so complicated, that one. But Ainsley Knott… That was complicated.

More than he would care to admit.

 

………………………...

“Liar,” Padfoot hissed as he slid next to Moony, who raised an eyebrow but did not divert his eyes from the game. 

“Knight to E4.”

Three pairs of eyes watched as Wormtail lost and subsequently groaned. 

“Who’s a liar?” Moony sighed, the victory lost on him. A sad sap, that one.

“Who else? The king of kings---”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

Moony waved an ambiguous hand. “The theatrics. It’s a little much, don’t you think?”

“Am I too much or are you not enough?”

Wormtail began to chuckle and was immediately silenced by a hefty eye from Padfoot.

“He’s seeing her, I know he is.”

“Seeing who?”

“ _Ainsley Knott_ ,” Padfoot whispered harshly. Moony rolled his eyes.

“You heard what he said on the train…”

“I heard, but I didn’t listen.”

“Shocking. Well, this is his year of self discovery…”

Padfoot snorted; Moony pressed on.

“... He’s staying out of trouble…”

Three minds drifted to the seventh floor corridor and a certain someone’s certain ban.

“... No girls…”

Marlene McKinnon and Lily Evans, laughing, crossed the common room to the girl’s dormitory stairs.

“... He’s focusing on his studies …”

“He asked me if he could copy my Potions paper,” Wormtail said thoughtfully.

Moony looked between his friends, defeated. 

“He’s seeing her,” Padfoot declared with the air of his specific brand of confidence. 

“That is a dangerous accusation,” Moony said quietly as he began to clean up the chess pieces.

“And why is that?”

“I can’t say.”

Padfoot became overwhelmed in such a state of outrage that he rose to his feet. “Is _everyone_ keeping secrets now?”

“It’s called discretion.”  
“Or tact,” Wormtail offered, earning himself another glare. 

“Well,” Padfoot huffed, “ _I_ have secrets as well.”

“No you don’t,” Wormtail and Moony said simultaneously. 

“Then I’ll get some,” Padfoot snapped. He turned sharply on his heel. “And then you’ll be sorry.”

As he stormed away, Wormtail turned to Moony. “I have never been less sorry.”

“I concur.”

 

…………………………………..

“Rise and shine!”

“Fuck off, fuck right off----”

In one swift motion, Lily Evans had yanked the curtains obscuring Marlene McKinnon from the world wide open. The blonde groaned and pulled her pillow over her head, determined to fall back into the positively lovely dream she’d been having where everyone had forgotten she existed. 

“You slept through breakfast, everyone’s gone,” Lily, who had always been a morning person, chirped lightly. 

“Wonderful,” yawned Marlene, emerging from beneath the pillow. She felt woozy and dehydrated, swinging her legs over the side of the bed to make her way to the water jug on the window sill. Lily immediately began to smooth her covers, fluffing pillows and humming to herself, her hair curled and her eyes bright from restful sleep. Marlene, however, felt as if she had been hit by several trains. She dug into the pocket of the robes she’d carelessly tossed to the floor the previous night and retrieved her cigarettes, popped one in her mouth and opened the window. Lily took a seat on her bed and watched as she lit the smoke and exhaled in great relief.

“You lost weight,” she commented, brows furrowed. 

Marlene shrugged. “Stress is the best diet.”

“I can count your ribs, Mar.”

“Are they all there?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Marlene smirked, taking another drag from her cigarette. Two more and she was satisfied, dropping the smoldering remains from the window to the grounds below. She glanced at herself in the mirror against the wall and wrinkled her nose in distaste. Lily was already pulling her uniform from her mess of a trunk.

“Get dressed, we’ll be late.”

“You can go on without me, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Marlene quickly reassured her friend she would be just fine.

“I’ll save you a seat,” Lily said, watching her curiously. With that she was gone, leaving Marlene to stare herself down in the mirror. She tugged at her hair, knotted and sticking up in random places. She needed a change, some kind of change, anything. The platinum blonde reached just below her waist. She took a handful of it and pulled it forward. With a look of pure determination, she lifted her wand.

“Diffindo,” she said quietly with a steady hand, watching as a sheet of her hair fell to the floor. She dropped her wand and released the remaining hair from her fist. It now sat at her shoulders. A small shock of panic struck her as her eyes moved from the hair on the floor to the hair on her head, shorter than it had been in years. She ran a hand through it, and the image of Sirius Black swam in her eyes, the way he would wrap her hair around his knuckles and pull her closer in those dark corridors and secret rooms, and she suddenly felt clean, like she’d removed another bit of him. It was with this renewed vigor that she spun to face her uniform, laid out on the bed. She aimed her wand at the skirt.

“Diffindo.”

And it was suddenly quite short, very much like her hair, and she smiled in a wicked sort of way as she pulled it on. It grazed her thighs deliciously. She mysteriously forgot to put on her stockings as she slid into her shoes. Pulling on the white blouse, she missed the top few buttons, allowing her cleavage to strain against the scarlet and gold tie, she rolled the sleeves to her elbows and tied the cardigan lazily around her waist. When she turned to the mirror again, it was with confidence and a hint of defiance. She mussed her hair.

“Tart,” she murmured to herself, then laughed.

When she left the dorm, her lips were stained blood red.  
  
  


  
……………………………..

“I’m Paul----”

“Who says you’re Paul? I thought I was Paul.”

“No, you’re John, which makes Moony George---”

“Moony is clearly George, the real issue here is that I am Paul and you are John.”

“Who am I?” Peter asked earnestly, turning in his seat to see Sirius and James deeply engaged in conversation.

“Ringo,” they said simultaneously. Remus snorted.

“I’m Paul because I get all the birds,” Sirius declared, and James let out a bark of laughter.

“On the contrary, I’m Paul because I get all the birds…”

“Lily Evans. Your argument is invalid,” said Sirius, waving him off. “Girls only talk to you because you play Quidditch.”

“And because I’m devilishly handsome,” James grinned as he leaned back on the legs of his chair. “Which, by the way, makes me Paul.”

“No, you’re John because of the glasses.”

“No----”

Remus put his hand up, effectively silencing them. “Sirius is John and James is Paul.”

James cried out in victory while Sirius folded his arms over his chest and slid down in his seat.

“Sirius is John because of the temper….”

“That’s a fucking typecast,” he snarled.

“....And James is Paul because of the… Charisma?”

“Nice try, Moony but we all know it’s right here,” said James, pointing to his face.

“Why am I Ringo?” 

Moony laughed. “Because----”

“Good morning, ladies!”

The Transfiguration classroom was nearly full. The Marauders had taken their seats at the back, George and Ringo at the table in front of John and Paul. The Slytherins were chatting amongst themselves on the opposite side of the room. The Gryffindor girls had arrived, led by Lily Evans, and they were coming down the aisle conveniently close to their male counterparts. The greeting came from James.

“Boys,” Mary McDonald smiled. 

“May I say you all look ravishing this morning,” James continued.

“Wish I could say likewise,” teased Emmeline Vance. She turned to Padfoot. “Good morning, Sirius.”

“G’morning,” he grinned, but he was counting the heads. Lily, Mary, Dorcas, Emmeline… He caught Moony’s eye. They were one very noticeable head short, and he was filled with equal parts relief and curiosity. Where had Marlene snuck off to now?

James, however, chose to ignore this.

It had been a long night.

“Alright, Evans?”

Lily turned to face him, already halfway to her seat at the front of the room. “Alright, Potter.”

Sirius cast a brief look over his shoulder in search of one Marlene McKinnon, and when he turned back around a semblance of a pout rested carefully on his handsome features. He had come prepared, peppered with insults to accost her with. He didn’t even notice James leaning back in his chair to exchange curt nods with Ainsley Knott. 

“What’s that face?” Remus asked him, having turned around. 

“What? Nothing.”

With a shrug, Remus returned his eyes to the front of the classroom, where Professor McGonagall had raised her wand. He leaned to Peter with the slightest whisper.

“...Maybe he’s got some secrets after all.”


	3. Chapter 3

Marlene McKinnon quite enjoyed the calm of the empty corridors as she sauntered down them, pondering whether or not she intended to attend Transfiguration or jailbreak her broom for a ride around the Quidditch pitch. It didn’t occur to her that she should watch the corners as she rounded them, lightly whistling, until the curse hit her square in the back and she fell forward, effectively petrified. She hadn’t heard the spell being cast, nor had she seen her attacker but as she crashed to the floor she heard hushed laughter and then she lay, frozen and alone, wishing very much she had made it to one of her destinations while she still had a choice.

It was a few moments before the panic set in and she realized the classroom doors would soon swing open and everyone would see her body bound on the floor of the corridor in her too short skirt with her too short hair. This was not the way she intended to make her debut. Nevertheless, the doors did swing open and another wave of panic washed over her as her peers came flooding into the hall, chatting amongst themselves, hardly bothering to look down and see her lying there amongst the throng. 

“Oy! MCKINNON!”

She could not move to see where the voice had come from but recognized it as James Potter, ever observant. Prongs himself had been the first to vacate Professor McGonagall’s classroom and had taken a moment to rest his inflated head on the shoulder of Sirius Black, which marked his gaze low and modest and put Marlene’s frozen form directly in his line of vision. 

“Is she….”

“... she is…”

“ ** _Professor!_** ” Padfoot and Prongs cried in unison, and Marlene felt a furious blush creep into her cheeks. At least, she thought, this was a viable excuse for not attending class. She wished for something to strike her down, maybe to come through the cathedral ceiling of the castle and remove her from view as all eyes turned to her and the outrage grew louder.

“Out of the way!”

James Potter, Hero, was clearing a space around where she lay. He knelt down beside her, glasses dipping to the end of his nose.

“Are you alright?” he asked her quite seriously, and then cracked a smile. “Raise a hand for yes.”

She made a vow to slap him immediately upon movement.

“Move, Potter!”

Professor McGonagall appeared, quickly casting the countercurse. Marlene felt warmth spread throughout her limbs as she gasped for air, and James extended a hand to help her to her feet. 

“Who did this?” McGonagall questioned sternly, her eyes narrowed.

“I… I didn’t see.”

McGonagall eyed her carefully. “I will excuse your absence today due to this… unfortunate circumstance. Are you alright, Miss McKinnon?”

“I’m fine, Professor. Thank you.”

“Very well. And Miss McKinnon, that skirt is far too short.”

As the good professor turned to return to her classroom, James took a step back to take in said short skirt. She glared at him as he took her in, eyeing her from top to bottom.

“No idea what she’s saying. I think it’s just right.”

“What happened?”

Remus Lupin had joined the fray of dispersing students, ignoring the whispers that now swirled around them. The swirling of whispers was not unfamiliar to the Marauders and Company, but still brought a twinge of fury to Marlene McKinnon, who had had enough of that for one lifetime.

“Mar!”

Lily Evans pushed through the crowd, hair strewn over her shoulders. The flock of Gryffindor girls stood firmly behind her wearing masks of shock and dismay and maybe a little satisfaction, courtesy of one Emmeline Vance.

“Are you alright? Who did it… Your skirt!” 

“Your hair!” Mary McDonald gaped.

“Shame,” Sirius Black frowned as he appeared at James’s side. “Easier to pull when it’s long.”

“Sirius!” Lily chided. 

“Never you mind,” Marlene snapped at Sirius, who smirked. “Now can we all stop standing around? I survived, didn’t I?”

“Did you see who did it?” Remus asked quite seriously, and she shook her head.  
“Cursed me from behind. No idea.”

“Who would do that to you?” Lily demanded. “I want names.”

“Oh I like this Lily,” James said to Sirius in a considerably unhushed tone, which earned him a hard stare. “Feisty.”

“I’ve got no shortage of enemies,” Marlene said bitterly, and several sets of eyes turned down, for this was true but no one cared to admit it.

“Well if you hear anything,” James said to break the silence. “We’ll be on it.”

“I would hate to not offer my sincere congratulations.”

“ _Sirius!_ ”

“What?”

**..............................................**

The cursing of Marlene McKinnon spread like wildfire throughout the corridors. By the time lunch rolled around, not a single student or professor had been left uninformed. It nearly made people forget Ainsley Knott’s assault of Antonin Dolohov, which had been hot on the lips since the evening prior. When Sirius Black received a strangely handsome owl during the afternoon feast, hardly anyone noticed. Everyone was so immersed in talk of Marlene McKinnon and Ainsley Knott they failed to see his brow crease and his lip curl. Everyone accept James Potter, of course.

“What’s that?” James asked, nodding towards the thick scroll of parchment his best friend now clutched in a trembling fist.

“The Noble and Most An---”

“---cient House of Black would like to request….”

Remus chimed in, “Your presence at a family event they have no business inviting you to---”

And Peter, “Regardless of your exile from our family crest----”

“Sincerely, without a hint of love, Walburga Black,” Sirius finished with gritted teeth and their small section of the table fell into silence, nobody quite sure what to say in times like these. James clapped a hand to his shoulder.

“Would you like a smoke?”

Wordlessly, Sirius stood and stormed from the Great Hall with James in his wake. They didn’t speak until they were well onto the grounds, tucked into the shade of the castle. Even then Sirius stood with his back to the stone, sulking as he dragged heavily on the cigarette James provided for him. 

“Right old cunt, she is,” he finally said.

“I wouldn’t tend to disagree.”

“Why even send the owl?”

“I don’t know, mate,” James confessed. “I have half a mind to say she doesn’t even send it.”

“Who, then?” 

“I would place a firm bet on Regulus.”

Sirius sneered. “Little Slytherin git trying to get Mummy to invite me to tea…”

“Don’t let ‘em get you, Pads. You’ve got me.”

“What a relief,” Sirius drawled, glancing over at James. “To be stuck with you forever.”

James grinned. “Aren’t you a lucky one?”

****

**...............................**

“Did you see how she fell?”

A convention of degenerates had gathered in the Slytherin common room to accommodate the daily news of Marlene McKinnon’s jinxing. The responsible party had not yet revealed themselves but it was quite enjoyable nonetheless, as Marlene McKinnon had proven to be a blood traiting cunt with a knack for duelling and an insatiable need to do The Right Thing. She was a member of Potter’s gang which made her a public enemy in multiple facets, let alone her standing on the Gryffindor quidditch team (which had beat Slytherin particularly gruesomely the previous year). The sixth year Slytherin boys recounted with glee her less than graceful collapse, cackling and congratulating each other on this clear victory. They were so preoccupied with themselves they failed to notice Ainsley Knott, with her head low, making her way through the common room to the girl’s dormitories.

Ainsley Knott had little to say and less to think about, if anyone asked. She was beautiful, well off and Pureblood. Her attendance at Hogwarts was a mere requirement, a prerequisite for her marriage to a partner she did not choose but was instead chosen for her by her father. It was a smart match, it would keep their blood clean and their Gringotts vault stacked. She could expect engagement to Rabastan Lestrange immediately upon her coming of age, preparations for which had already commenced, seeing as she would turn seventeen over the summer. It was debatable if she would return to Hogwarts at all, with the wedding preparations underway. She surely wouldn’t need to know advanced magic for her future as a housewife.

Ainsley Knott had much to say and more to think about it, but she kept it to herself. She was beautiful, well off and Pureblood. She quite enjoyed Hogwarts, particularly Charms, and had a specific dislike for all things Rabastan Lestrange. During their courtship, he had twice groped her in a rose garden, forced his tongue between her teeth during a ball, and mercilessly snaked his hand up her thigh. And she sat, calm and collected through all of his assaults, knowing that this was a Smart Match. Clean blood and piles of galleons. Security for her family. A tangible future. Eternal service to the dark arts. And there were certain things she would not fight against, because fear to Ainsley Knott had a name she could not speak.

So maybe she was a little angry. And maybe she was lashing out. And maybe she jinxed one of her housemates in the Great Hall, and maybe she also jinxed Marlene McKinnon in the hall (though that was a separate issue all together). She found herself needing release, and she found that release in the form of a Gryffindor boy who grinned at her lopsidedly and called her Ace, who was happy to keep her secrets so long as she kept his. 

And that…

Well that complicated things.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for your kudos and comments. This is a dialogue heavy chapter but bear with me. It's gonna get real good soon.

In the Gryffindor common room that evening, there was a scream, a slap and a great deal of swearing in rapid succession. Sirius Black stood, flabbergasted, with his hand to his burning cheek. Marlene McKinnon (having snapped) was opposite him, seething. Sirius let loose a stream of curse words post assault that attracted more attention than the slap itself, which had turned a few heads but was mostly just ignored, as this was not the first time someone had slapped Sirius Black across the face. James Potter was seated in the armchair closest to the fire, flanked by Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. None of the Marauders bothered to look up at all.

“Did she hit him?” Remus asked, bored. He flipped through his Herbology textbook, skimming the pages but not quite taking anything in.

“That she did,” Peter responded with a sigh.

“Set himself up for that one, didn’t he?”

“I’d say so.”

James rolled his eyes as he directed them into the flames, lapping against the sides of the fireplace. “5…”

“4….”

“3….”

“2…”

Lily Evans, curled on the couch, looked up and offered a sigh of her own. “1…”

“How _**dare**_ you---”

“How dare I what?!”

And they burst into incomprehensible screaming, each trying to best the other. The remaining Gryffindors all turned to stare. 

“They never stop, do they?” Lily groaned. James glanced over at her and grinned.

“They don’t. But it serves them well at Quidditch.”

“Is that why you’re not stopping them?” she asked him incredulously. He shrugged. She scoffed in return, moving to stand.

“You, James Potter, are an enabler.”

“A what?”

“An _enabler_. For your own gain,” she said. “Break it up, you two!”

Marlene threw a scathing glare in Lily’s direction and gave way to a dramatic exit, complete with a roll of her eyes and a flip of her hair before she proceeded to stomp towards the girl’s dormitories. Sirius watched her go with a distinct sense of rage before he followed suit in the opposite direction. Lily, with a sigh, sunk back down to the couch while James Potter offered little sympathy but a great, booming laugh.

“It’s not funny,” she snapped. “She’s delicate…”

“McKinnon? Delicate?” James snorted. “She’s many things, but I wouldn’t say delicate is one of them---”

“---after all she went through last year---”

“---all she _put_ herself through---”

“Enough,” Remus interrupted carefully, and a quiet calm settled between the housemates. He looked between James and Lily. “You’re just as bad as them, you know.”

“Evans has never assaulted me.”

Lily smirked. “Not yet.”

“Nor has she snogged me in a broom closet…”

And they reflected on the fond memory of the one time (to their infinite knowledge) that Sirius Black and Marlene McKinnon did in fact snog in a broom closet on a very illicit dare.

“Not ever.”

“Ah, never say never,” James said with a wag of his finger.

“You disgust me. I’m going to check on Marlene.”

When she’d excused herself, James made a show of shaking back the sleeve of his robe to check his imaginary watch.

“Would you look at the time!”

Peter, one eyebrow raised, took the bait. “Time for what?”

“Time for me to commandeer the seventh floor, of course.”

“To do what?”

“Time’s a-wastin,” James grinned, pushing himself to his feet.

“It’s past curfew.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“You’re already banned, Prongs. Why push it?”

This came from Remus, and James took him in with consideration. 

“What’s life without a little risk, Moony?”

“Easy,” Moony deadpanned, but James, who had begun to whistle, had already retrieved his trusty cloak of invisibility from beneath his robes. “Will you need a watch?”

“I think I can manage this one on my own.”

Wormtail and Moony watched Prongs disappear through the portrait hole with a flourish before turning to each other.

“Famous last words.”

“Yep.”

****

**.............................................**

“Where does she get the nerve---”

Padfoot paced the length of the boy’s dormitory with a vicious storm in his wake. His unwilling audience consisted of Moony and Wormtail, who laid on their beds and watched him with boredom in their eyes. Wormtail, laying on his stomach, was the first to speak.

“Not a clue, Pads.”

He found it best, in these circumstances, to agree with Sirius blindly. This was the easiest way to avoid a confrontation. But Remus, under the ownership of a backbone, rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be a prat, you started it.”

Sirius immediately stopped his pacing and gaped at Remus.

“She _assaulted_ me!”

“And you stay up all night thinking of ways to torture her. What’s the real issue here, Pads?”

“The issue is that McKinnon has clearly lost her mind---”

“She’s been through enough. I wouldn’t blame her if she had.”

“Where’s Prongs?” Padfoot demanded, seeking his one true ally. 

“Seventh floor.”

“Seventh floor?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“He’s with Knott.”

Remus snorted. “Come off it.”

“I know him, he’s with Knott,” Sirius snapped, resuming his pacing. “You didn’t see the way they looked at each other…”

“You’re paranoid.”

“You need to get laid,” offered Peter. 

“Here, here,” Remus grinned.

“I get laid plenty!”

“When was the last time?”

But he wasn’t about to tell them that, because the Marauders have secrets now. He wasn’t going to tell them that the precious fifteen minutes he spent outside their reserved cabin on the Hogwarts Express involved performing an assault of his own on Marlene McKinnon in the bathroom, he wasn’t going to tell him that he lifted her onto the sink and pushed up her skirt, he wasn’t going to tell them that she purred into his hand, the hand that covered her mouth, or that her eyes clouded over when he pushed inside her. 

It simply wasn’t their business.

Prongs, however.

“He’s snogging Ainsley Knott,” he said indignantly.

“That long, eh?”

“I’ll get laid any time I want. I’ll get laid tonight!”

“Care to bet on that?”

And Sirius Black’s eyes flashed dangerously at the word. “What are the terms, then?”

Remus shook back his sleeve and checked his watch, his real watch, as opposed to James’s imaginary one. “It’s ten thirty. Before the stroke of midnight you are to have relieved yourself.”

Sirius smirked. “Easy.”

****

**......................................**

The girl’s dormitory sat stormy and silent. Lily Evans watched Marlene McKinnon smoke cigarettes from her perch on the window sill. Emmeline Vance received an owl. It swooped past Marlene, who cried out in shock and dropped her cigarette to the grounds below.

“Who’s writing you this late?” Lily asked with a slight smile, as Emmeline had carefully unrolled the parchment with a gleam in her eye. 

“Nearly killed me,” Marlene mumbled, but was promptly ignored. 

“Is it a boy?” Lily pressed.

This caught Marlene’s attention. “A gentleman caller at this time of night?”

“You’ve no room to talk,” Lily laughed as she laid back on her bed. “Let’s recall Dennis O’Leary…”

“Ah, Dennis,” Marlene sighed with a hint of nostalgia. “Right little perv.”

“Sending you owls at all times of the night….”

“Spent many an evening underneath staircases with him. Quality kisser.”

“Heard he’s working for the Ministry now.”

“Is he? Should have trapped that one.”

Emmeline had turned a shade of pink and was clutching the parchment to her chest.

“Well get on with it,” Marlene said shortly. Lily shot her a look. “What?”

“Who is it?” the redhead pressed. “You can tell us!”

“I’m going to tell everyone,” Marlene deadpanned. Emmeline glanced between them before handing Lily the parchment. “Oh, come on! I’m only kidding…”

Lily’s eyes widened upon taking in the words. “Oh.”

“Who is it?!”

“It’s uh. It’s Sirius.”

And Marlene McKinnon, whose heart turned to stone, gave her best impression of being unbothered.

“Oh?”

 

“He wants to meet me on the seventh floor,” Emmeline demurred.

“Why the seventh floor?” Lily asked, eyebrow raised.

“You’re such a good girl, Lil,” Marlene sighed, collapsing to her bed. “The room of requirement, of course.”

“The what?”

“The room of requirement! Reflects the needs of the seeker, et cetera…”

“I won’t go,” Emmeline said dumbly, looking at Marlene. “Not after that scene.”

“Don’t be a hero,” Marlene snapped. “Go.”

Emmeline looked unsure as to if she had just fallen into a deep trap.

Spoiler alert: she had.

“Are you sure?”

“What do I care?”

“Weren’t you just fighting with him in the---”

“And what business of yours is that? Go, have fun.”

Marlene then forced a tight smile that showed far too many of her teeth. Lily eyed her skeptically. 

“He is very handsome...”

“He’s grotesque, but whatever you say.”

Marlene McKinnon was fuming in a way she hoped would remain silent, as if the steam that rose from the top of her head was invisible. Sirius Black’s dark eyes swam in her mind, and he thought of the way he wrapped his hand around her throat from behind, and she thought of the way he bit at the nape of her neck, or how he pinned her wrists above her head. Lily watched her curiously.

“Grotesque is strong, don’t you think?”

“Don’t you have a seventh floor to get to?”

****

**..................................**

Ainsley Knott was in a mood, a big enough mood to give her trouble visualizing the door of the room of requirement, which stranded her in the corridor too long for her liking. She was attempting to concentrate so vainly that she nearly cried out in shock when a set of arms linked around her waist and pulled her beneath the depths of a certain invisibility cloak.

“Little late to be wandering the corridors, Knott.”

She turned to shove the chest of James Potter, who was grinning impishly. “You’re late.”

“There was a bit of scene in the common room, I got caught up.”

“Black and McKinnon?”  
“Now, now. We don’t talk about your friends, let’s not talk about mine.”

“Your friends are boorish---”

“Your friends are Death Eaters.”

She contemplated an argument but failed to complete the thought. The door to the room of requirement appeared before them and he shoved her inside for fear of Mrs. Norris lurking, much to her chagrin. He closed the door swiftly behind them and collapsed to the couch that had appeared, the room itself taking the form of a very cozy den, complete with dim lighting and plush pillows. Tossing the cloak to the floor, he sighed and pulled her down to his lap. 

“Tell me about your day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. 

“I would rather not discuss it,” she snipped. She thought of Marlene McKinnon collapsing to the floor. “It was rather uneventful.”

“You’re in a mood.”

“I am not in a mood.”

“Did you hear from dear Rabastan?”

“Thankfully not. Just my mother. Pureblood ball coming up.”

“Yes, one of my boorish friends received an invitation as well.”

“Black?”

“Who else?”

“They’re still inviting him? Last I heard Walburga blasted him off the family crest…”

“Word travels fast…”

“You can’t blame her, really.”

“I can blame her entirely,” James said coldly, and Ainsley fell silent. There were certain things they didn’t discuss, and Sirius Black was one of them. There was a distinct difference in the way they conducted their lives, but there was one thing they did very well, and that continuously brought them back to the seventh floor. So they skirted around the issues, and they made the small talk, and then they fell horizontal to the couch in a furious flurry of hot mouths and impatient hands. It was a secret they keep well, because even Marauders have secrets.  
  
But the unfortunate thing about being a Marauder, you see, is being found out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! Sorry for the lack of updates. This one's a little short, I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. Enjoy!

When Sirius Black graciously escorted Emmeline Vance from the common room into the corridor it was with several intentions, all of them sinister. He was keen to win Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew’s bet against him, an investment in further angering Marlene McKinnon and a great, scorching desire to see exactly what James Potter was up to on the seventh floor. However, only one of these options would come to fruition. You see, Sirius Black was no good at divination. If he had had a crystal ball, maybe even a timely premonition, or the assistance of his best friend’s trusty invisibility cloak, he could have avoided his fate in the form of Professor McGonagall in her nightdress standing just outside the Fat Lady’s portrait, brow raised and foot tapping. He could have avoided being strapped with a week’s worth of detention, maybe even spent the night deep inside Emmeline post cracking James’s excuses wide open, but no. Only detention would suffice.

“Black, Vance. Detention, both of you,” McGonagall yawned, much to the dismay of her students. Sirius stared at her incredulously.

“How did you---”

“Do not question me.”

His mouth shut itself indignantly. 

“Imsosorryprofessor,” Emmeline spat out in one word, her cheeks growing red. She quickly unclasped her hand from Sirius’s upon noticing the good professor’s disapproving stare.

“We will expand on your punishment at a less ungodly hour. Go to bed.”

When she had watched them crawl back through the portrait hole, Sirius felt free to unload.

“Ungodly hour, it’s not even midnight…”

“Maybe we could reschedule?” Emmeline offered hopefully. Sirius stared moodily in to the crackling fire. 

“Dropped my hand like I’ve got the fucking plague,” he sneered, and then he stormed away to his dormitory. Emmeline, quite displaced, followed suit. Upon entering the girl’s dorms, she realized Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon were just as she’d left them: Lily cross legged on her four poster bed, Marlene smoking cigarettes from the window sill.

“That was fast,” Marlene said with the slightest hint of a smirk.

“McGonagall was right outside. Don’t know how she could have known…”

Lily’s eyes narrowed at Marlene. “Strange, isn’t it Mar?”

“Strange indeed. Well. It’s getting late, isn’t it?”

Strange indeed how the same owl that had delivered Sirius’s message to Emmeline could be used to drop a hint to McGonagall in the same swoop, but that was between Marlene, Lily and the walls, wasn’t it?

“I suppose…” Emmeline trailed off, eyeing Marlene curiously. The blonde simply shrugged as she kicked off her shoes and pulled down her stockings, all with a lit cigarette in her hand. “I asked if he’d like to reschedule but he didn’t seem into it.”

“Sirius is fleeting,” Lily sighed. 

“When did you become such an expert?” Marlene chuffed as she tossed said cigarette to the grounds. And Lily said nothing, she only let the semblance of a secret rest between them, as this seemed to be the new normal. She watched Marlene strip down to her underwear and crawl beneath her covers. “Good night, ladies.”

When she drew the curtains around herself Emmeline gave a great sigh and did the same, bidding Lily good night. The other Gryffindor girls already lay peacefully sleeping, leaving Lily to bake in her thoughts. Lily Evans, such a good girl, such a model student, the epitome of grace and class and all those things she failed to be in the muggle world while at home with her parents but felt she had to uphold at Hogwarts, knew Sirius Black was fleeting because she watched him like she watched everyone, particularly the company he kept. 

Lily Evans liked to observe. She played out scenes and characters and situations, she stayed on the outskirts of the drama, she placed people in categories by thought and feeling. It was all part of the great novel she was writing in her head, the same one she relentlessly wrote up on her typewriter at home, the one with the changed names and places but strikingly similar situations she hoped would be published by the Prophet one day… Pipe dreams, Lily Evans was full of pipe dreams, but she covered them up with carefully constructed ambiguity. Quiet and clever, yes, indeed. She allowed herself to blend nearly into the background, the sidekick to Marlene’s tragic hero, solely for the purpose of research. And yes, she was beautiful, and popular, and smart and kind and all of the right things, but she was also mysterious in a way nobody could seem to decode. What was Lily thinking behind that wash of red hair, those wide green eyes? What was Lily scribbling on that spare piece of parchment?

There was one character in particular she did her best to show no interest in, for the sole reasoning that he showed so much in her. But he, aside from the occasional joke, seemed distant. Seemed off. And she couldn’t place her finger on why, she didn’t understand why he seemed to drift from his comfortable position vying for her attention and she didn’t want to admit that it bothered her, but it did. She quite enjoyed his outlandish antics and his thirst for her approval. She quite enjoyed his messy hair and crooked glasses. She quite enjoyed James Potter, but he could never know. Merlin knows what he would do with that sort of information. 

Perhaps he’d write a book of his own.

****

**........................................**

When James Potter entered the boy’s dormitory that evening his glasses were crooked and his fly was undone. This would have gone entirely unnoticed had Sirius Black not been up waiting for him, tapping his foot expectantly all the while. James stopped abruptly at the sight of him and grinned sheepishly, reaching up to run a hand through his unkempt hair.

“Padfoot.”

“Prongs.”

“Well…” James tried. “G’night, then.”

“Just a second.”

And a second passed without a word, but neither James or Sirius moved.

“Have you seen Ainsley Knott lately?”

James raised an eyebrow in a fantastic impression of surprise. “No. Have you?”

“I haven’t. I was just wondering if she’d been invited to the ball. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Why would I know anything about that? They haven’t bothered inviting us in ages….”

“Well your lot isn’t quite evil enough.”

“Naturally.”

“But the Blacks, the Malfoys…”

“Ah, Lucius. I don’t miss him.”

“... the Knotts, the Lestranges… You’ve heard about that little set up, haven’t you?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“No? Ainsley and Rabastan?” Sirius pried, watching his friend’s face carefully in the semi darkness. “Smart match.”

“Is that what they’re calling it?” James mumbled, pulling back the curtains around his bed. “Sounds like they’re breeding Death Eaters.”

Sirius fell silent, as this response quelled his need for answers. The Potters were notoriously, disgustingly Good. Perhaps he’d been wrong about James and Ainsley after all.

“S’pose they are.”

Padfoot and Prongs stared at each other then, each trying to decipher the meaning of this conversation. Prongs and his hard beating heart crawled beneath the blankets and broke eye contact. Padfoot and his frown did the same. 

“G’night Padfoot.”

“G’night Prongs.”

****

**.................................................**

Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon strolled down to the Great Hall that morning with their arms linked, chatting happily. They did not anticipate an interruption, as they were so immersed in their intense discussion of nothing in particular they were hardly aware of their surroundings. This is unwise in an unpredictably magical setting, where anything (just anything) could happen.

“COMING THROUGH!”

Peter Pettigrew’s face was bright red as he plowed through the students progressing to breakfast. He ran directly between Marlene and Lily, who broke apart with a cry of disprovement, and cleanly knocked over a second year who had to collect her set of scales upon impact. 

“Pettigrew!” Marlene bellowed as Lily straightened her skirt. “What the hell are you doing?!”

 

“Pardon us, ladies,” James Potter sighed, brushing through them. 

“Should’ve known it was you,” Marlene grumbled. Lily looked on, curious.

“Anyone told you you’ve been in a mood, McKinnon?”

“Everyone gets mad when I tell her,” Sirius Black smirked, appearing behind Potter. Marlene spun to reply, seething, and was promptly interrupted by a scream.


End file.
